The Blockchain Revolution Page 16

  The next morning, he was astonished to see that his magnificent new, guaranteed squirrel-proof feeder was empty! How in the world could the little monster have pulled that off?

  He stalked out on to the balcony and examined the feeder. It seemed perfectly fine. So, how?

  He’d have to catch Fang in the act to answer that. He set the feeder on the balcony floor and refilled it. After replacing the lid, he picked the feeder up and watched as eight pounds of seed poured out onto his feet. He turned it over, and there was the answer: the miserable rodent had gnawed through the plastic bottom while hanging upside down from the cage.

  So much for the best that American industry could offer. It was time to take anti-squirrel technology to a new level on his own. For the rest of the afternoon, he decided, the financial world would just have to protect itself.

  Chapter 20

  Cheers!

  A week had passed since the big wave of cyber currency attacks. Ben Cronin was updating Horace Nukem on how the global financial dust kicked up by the massive attack had settled for the BankCoin network.

  “So, that’s where things stand, Horace,” Cronin said. “Everything seems shipshape. We’ve had the best white hat hackers hit BankCoin with everything they’ve got, and they weren’t able to get inside.”

  “Yeah, well, tell that to the analysts,” Nukem said. “They’re all talking about whether they should change their ‘buy’ recommendations on First Manhattan stock to ‘hold’ or even ‘sell.’”

  “Well, you can’t blame the markets for being jittery after something like this. All things considered, I think our stock price has held up very nicely. The longer nothing bad happens, the more it will firm up.”

  “It’s not just me, Ben,” Nukem replied. “The other banks are worried, too. We’re the central security authority, and we’re charging big bucks for that service. They’re looking for something more from us to help rebuild confidence. What can we give them?”

  Benson Cronin looked at Audrey Addams. But she shook her head – no, she had no bright ideas, either. “Well –” Cronin began. But Nukem cut him off.

  “How about getting our cybersecurity guy out there? Isn’t this why you told the board we had to hire him?”

  “You mean Frank?” Cronin said, frowning. “Frank Adversego?”

  “Sure. If everybody thinks he’s such a genius, why don’t you trot him around to tell everybody why BankCoin is different – why no one has anything to worry about? Have him hold a press conference – visit with the big pension plan gatekeepers – make the rounds on the financial cable news shows.”

  Nukem was warming to his own idea. “And hit up the analysts. We could schedule cocktail parties here and in San Francisco – let’s add DC, too. I don’t want the regulators breathing down our neck. Yeah. Let’s do all that. Gosh knows we’re paying him enough.”

  Audrey Addams’s eyes were wide. Nukem wanted them to use the next best thing to a mute idiot savant as a spin doctor?

  “Good!” Nukem said. “It’s settled then. Send me a draft schedule by the end of the week.”

  Then he left.

  “Well,” Cronin said, looking at Addams, “I guess we have our marching orders.” It was clear that by “we” he meant “you.”

  “But, Ben,” she said, “using Frank makes no sense.”

  “Then you’ll need to figure out how to make it make sense. Have our public relations people come up with some good talking points. Then have one of our lobbyists prep Frank the way they would if he was going to do a round of tough meetings on the Hill. They can rehearse him with some mock interviews, too, until he sounds good.”

  Addams nodded reluctantly. “Okay, I guess that would be a good way to start.”

  Cronin continued. “And we can assign one of our PR folks to work with him directly until this is all over. They can hover at his elbow wherever he goes. Don’t worry. You can make this work.” Cronin smiled, trying to project a comforting sense of assurance he didn’t feel. Then he looked at his watch. “Looks like I need to get ready for my next meeting.”

  Addams stood up, resolving to make the best of this unexpected situation. She was already planning the additions to Frank’s wardrobe.

  * * *

  Two days later, BankCoin’s new cybersecurity poster boy was sitting in a conference room on the sixty-fifth floor. There was a knock at the door which opened to reveal a striking young blonde woman. She walked straight toward him, and he scrambled out of his chair to accept the hand she thrust forward to be shaken.

  “Hello, Frank. I’m Lola Logan from PR Outreach.”

  Frank shook the offered hand lightly and quickly, stifling the urge to reply, “Hi, Lola. I’m Frank Adversego from PR Hell.” He settled for “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Perfect timing, Lola,” said Ted Miller, the public relations manager assigned to set up Frank’s schedule. “We just started reviewing Frank’s meeting schedule. Here.” He slid a sheet of paper across the table to her.

  “So,” Miller continued, “Thursday morning we’ve got Frank giving the keynote presentation on the second day of the big investor conference at the Javits Convention Center – nice work grabbing that slot when the Wells Fargo guy canceled out, Lola. That night, you and Frank will cover the cocktail party we’re hosting at a three-star restaurant. That runs from seven o’clock to nine thirty.”

  Frank’s head popped up. “Two and a half hours? Really?”

  “Don’t worry,” Miller said. “Lola will be at your side the whole time. She’ll worry about the list of people we want you to chat up. She’ll spot them in the crowd and walk you over and introduce you. All you’ll have to do is be yourself.”

  Frank cringed when he heard the phrase “chat up.” True, he’d made some headway in recent years; he could actually hold a conversation with a stranger for as much as two minutes before desperation set in. Still, “being himself” at a cocktail party full of Wall Street types would mean hiding in the darkest corner he could find, possibly in a fetal position. He decided to water that down a bit and make a joke out of it.

  “If you really mean ‘be myself,’” he said, “I’ll be in a cab on my way home before Lola is halfway across the room.”

  Miller didn’t laugh, but Lola generously gave him an appreciative smile.

  “Now, on Friday …” Miller continued.

  When the meeting was over, Lola and Miller hung back after Frank left.

  “So, what do you think?” Miller asked.

  “I’d say he’s all you said on the sociability scale and less.”

  “Think you can make this work?”

  “Sure. I enjoy a good challenge.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that. Let me know Friday afternoon how everything went.”

  * * *

  Lola was already in the town car when Frank got in. She was smartly dressed and gave him a warm smile.

  “I hear your keynote went great today!” she said.

  It had, actually. Frank was pleased with himself. But then again, it was much easier to talk to five hundred anonymous faces dozens of yards away than a single person up close. He’d been well rehearsed, and there hadn’t been many follow-up questions from the audience.

  “I guess it went okay,” he said. “Better than I expect I’ll do tonight, anyway. This isn’t really my kind of gig,” he said.

  “Oh, you’ll do just fine,” she said, reaching over and patting his hand. “I’ve got a list of points I’m supposed to look for an opportunity to make, so you don’t have to worry about the conversation stalling.” That list didn’t exist, but she was sure she’d come up with something on the fly if the need arose.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Frank said. The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself repeatedly in front of her.

  “And don’t forget,” she said. “You’ve
spent plenty of time prepping. You’ll do fine.” Another pat. Frank was starting to feel like a golden retriever.

  He gave her a strained smile and looked out the window. He was already feeling tongue-tied.

  “Let me look at you,” she said when they got out of the car. She cocked her head to one side and adjusted his tie. “There!” she said. “Now you’re ready for anything.”

  Lola spotted a direction placard on an easel inside. “Here we go. Off to the left.” Frank walked dutifully beside her to a large table covered with name tags.

  “Hi, Lola,” said the young woman sitting behind the table. “We’ve got a nice crowd already.” She found two tags with red ribbons along the bottom and attached a lanyard to Lola’s. “Here you go.”

  Lola took both and pinned Frank’s to his lapel before looping hers around her neck. “It was great when these lanyard things came along. You can’t imagine how many dresses used to get ruined when your name tab caught on something.”

  And then they were inside a large room filled with professionally dressed men and women. “Nice crowd indeed!” Lola said. “Now it’s time to get to work. All set?”

  “Sure,” Frank said, smiling weakly. “Can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

  “There’s the spirit!” Lola said and dove in.

  * * *

  Frank was feeling positively smug as he rode the elevator up to his midtown flat later that night. Of course, Lola deserved most of the credit. She’d been masterful at ensuring each conversation flowed well, not least by charming all the men and making friends with all the women. But still, he thought he’d held up his end well enough.

  Inside, he gratefully poured himself a drink; he’d stuck to club soda all evening. He was drinking the Distillers Edition of his favorite scotch now. According to the label, it had enjoyed, “a second life experience in VSOP cognac seasoned casks to add exquisitely subtle flavor notes.” He suspected that was utter nonsense, but he did like the result. He was becoming quite the scotch connoisseur if he did say so himself. His closet was becoming rather full, too, what with all the new custom-tailored clothing Addams had sent his way.

  He loosened his tie and turned to face the sparkling city beyond his grand windows, swirling the scotch before bringing the glass up to his nose to appreciate its aroma. No ice in his scotch now! Who’d have ever thought he could ever become such a man about town?

  Chapter 21

  Call Me Doogie

  Frank should have been reviewing his thick briefing book on the way to NSA headquarters for his first Russ Task Force meeting. Instead, he was gazing out the window, distracted.

  Why hadn’t he spent more time considering the risk of attack by a foreign state? True, at a technical level there was no difference between a state actor and a criminal, but that was no excuse – motivations might matter, and certainly the goals of both types of attackers could differ. With global banking now dependent on BankCoin, wouldn’t the Russians have a task force of their own charged with crafting a way to take down its opponent’s financial blockchain? Of course, it would, if only so it could retaliate in kind if the US ever took down the Russ.

  It wouldn’t have to be Russia, either. North Korea, China, and Iran all possessed formidable cyber weaponry. It could even be a smaller nation, like Venezuela or Cuba. The briefing book included a detailed report on the use of proxies to stage deniable attacks – not just smaller countries but companies and criminal enterprises, too. All types of stand-ins were used during the Cold War. Even if a country lacked a technical team capable of pulling off an assault, most could afford to hire one. Over a hundred and fifty nations fit that profile.

  The use of proxies was ancient, too, as the paper pointed out. From the days of the ancient Greeks forward, nations had hired mercenaries to reinforce or replace standing armies. At sea, countries with weak navies, or no navies at all, could take an even easier and less expensive route, by issuing “letters of marque” to private ship owners, authorizing them to arm their vessels and seize enemy ships. If such a privateer was captured by a foreign warship, holding that simple piece of paper meant the difference between being treated as a prisoner of war and being hung on the spot as a pirate.

  The privateer analogy struck him as being particularly applicable. All kinds of criminals were stealing money, identities, and priceless corporate intellectual property at will under the protective umbrellas of Russia and China. Sometimes they acted on behalf of one of those governments and at others for their own benefit.

  Clearly, Frank decided, he needed to worry about more than hit-and-run hackers out to steal low-hanging alt coin fruit. Serving on the Russ Task Force would help him reorient his thinking to do just that.

  Half an hour later, he was sitting in a conference room at NSA headquarters. Waiting for the others to arrive, he strolled over to the window and saw a dozen deer grazing on the lawn in the distance. Those must be the safest, deer on earth.

  The door opened behind him and Frank heard a familiar voice. “Ah, Frank. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Hi, Dirk,” Frank said. “Interesting we should both be on the same task force.”

  “Not so much, I think. You have the big name, and I am heavily involved in BankCoin, so why not?”

  “Why not indeed, I guess. Hi.”

  The “Hi” was directed at the uniformed man who had entered the room a few steps behind Dirk.

  “Hello,” the officer responded, shaking hands. “Colonel Lawrence Dix. And you are?”

  “Frank Adversego. And this is Dirk Magnus.”

  “Glad to have you both aboard. I’m sure you’ll be making a key contribution to the work of the task force.”

  Frank settled into the chair with his name in front of it and examined Colonel Dix and the other newcomers as they arrived. Dix seemed businesslike with a face that looked older than the age Frank had guessed from his bio. There were bags under his eyes, and his cheeks sagged down on either side of his chin. He reminded Frank of a basset hound in uniform.

  The middle-aged professor who sat down behind the Arnold Lerner name tag looked out of his element – he was dressed much the same way Frank would have been had Audrey Addams not restocked his closet. Lerner was alert, taking everything around him in with interest.

  Joel Rosen, the hacker who’d done hard time, looked like he’d rehabilitated well. He was wearing a blue blazer, open-neck shirt, blue jeans, and expensive shoes. Obviously, he’d gone native in Silicon Valley. And why not? The venture capitalists must be paying him a lot more than he’d ever made outside the law.

  Douglas Petrie, the last task force member to arrive – late – was clearly the ghost of Rosen’s criminal past. He was skinny and young, wearing sneakers, old jeans, and a black T-shirt with “Code Crusher” emblazoned on the front. The cover of the over-sized laptop he opened in front of him was covered with colorful decals.

  “All right,” Colonel Dix announced as Petrie sat down, “I’d like to welcome you all to the Russ Task Force and thank you for your service. I can assure you this project is of the highest priority. Regrettably, you won’t be able to disclose your participation or share any of the details now or in the future, but your work will be of vital importance to our national security.” Those around the table seemed appropriately impressed except for Petrie, whose eyes were locked on his computer screen.

  “Password?” Petrie interrupted.

  “Excuse me?” Colonel Dix said.

  “Password for the Wi-Fi network? My phone’s hotspot isn’t working.”

  “That’s right. The building’s shielded,” Colonel Dix replied.

  “So, I need a password so I can log on to your network. I’ll need to access my tools and stuff if you want me to do anything useful.”

  Colonel Dix pointed at the credenza behind Petrie. “Look over there.”

  Petrie swung around and spott
ed what he wanted. Colonel Dix glowered as Petrie set the laminated card next to his laptop and started typing.

  “So,” Colonel Dix resumed. “I think we can forego introductions. Your briefing books include full particulars on each task force member. Before we get down to business, though, does anyone have any questions?”

  “Yeah,” Petrie said, still typing. “So, what do you have against alt coins?”

  “Nothing, Mr. Petrie, but –”

  “Doogie,” Petrie interrupted.

  “Excuse me?” Colonel Dix said.

  “I go by Doogie. Call me Doogie.”

  Colonel Dix gave him a hard look. “Okay – Doogie. As I was about to say, the government has nothing against alt coins. As you may be aware, many government agencies have blockchain projects in progress. Also, Treasury, the Federal Reserve, and Commerce have all expressed their support for BankCoin. Our focus here is exclusively on the Russ, which is being used by Russia to evade the sanctions imposed by the United States and its allies in response to Russian aggression. Does that clarification help?”

  “Maybe,” Petrie said, his eyes locked on his computer screen. Frank wondered what allowances had been made in completing his background check? Presumably someone at the CIA was keeping a close eye on him.

  “Colonel,” Joel Rosen said, “I think what Doogie may be saying is if we want to succeed, we’ll need to be sensitive to the way the global blockchain community thinks about alt coins. If you have anyone in the field that doesn’t display real enthusiasm for the blockchain, they’ll be viewed with suspicion.” Good, Frank thought. It never hurt to have a peacemaker on a team.

  “Understood,” Colonel Dix said. “So, let me continue. I think we should try to be as informal here as circumstances permit. Further to that goal, I’m not going to kick things off with the usual hundred slides. Instead, I’d like to hear your initial reactions based on your briefing books. Who wants to start?”